Alien General's Bride: SciFi Alien Romance (Brion Brides) (6 page)

Isolde glared, which he found oddly arousing. Her eyes were bright, and she was clearly upset, her body tense. She was ready for the fight, yet she did not give in. Feeling himself stir, Diego labored to wait. All of it would be his anyway. Those soft lips and the round breasts and the body that just begged to be held, it would be his. Was his. He could wait to take it right.

“We just want to, um…” Isolde trailed off. “I don’t know the word for it in your language. Humans want to know we have the right one, the one we could really talk to, the one who could make us happy.”

“I do know that.”

“Not just from a gut feeling! From getting to know a person. From talking to them, laughing with them, knowing each other for more than a day!”

“You will get to know me. And I will get to know you.”

Isolde growled now, and Diego felt his arousal so vividly it was almost painful. His cock strained in his uniform pants, begging to be freed and thrust in her. Oh, she was a fighter after all. Just a more clever one.

”That is not what I meant,” his
gesha
said and sighed then. “Alright. Try this, then. I know the Brions are noble and proud. What would you do if there came another species, stronger than you and made you their slaves? Would you bow down to them?”

Diego snarled, “Of course not. That would be unthinkable.”

“Unthinkable, yes,” Isolde agreed, “because you think it’s dishonorable. But it’s dishonorable for me to accept you. It goes against what
I
believe. Humans choose their own mates. In their time, on their own terms. Because they really, really want to be with that one person. That is honorable for us. Getting to choose.”

Diego considered it. From an evolutionary standpoint, it was completely ridiculous. However, some of what she said made sense in its odd way.

“I see some nobility in that,” he allowed and saw her features relax a fraction. “But it does not change this. I am not human. This is right for me.”

“What about what’s right for me?” Isolde shot back.

“It is right for you too. You just don’t know it yet.”

This seemed to be going nowhere. Enough waiting. She could continue her fighting with her fists, and he would let her do that for a little while. Then they could consummate his binding and he would finally be whole.

“Wait, no,” Isolde cried when he seized her waist and pressed his lips to hers. As was to be expected, her hands beat at his chest, but it turned him on more than did any damage. Her lips didn’t seem entirely sure they wanted to say no, yielding to his hunger.

She tasted divine, like a nectar made for him alone, to be tasted by him alone. The need to have her became nigh unbearable, and he pulled back to undress her, giving Isolde time to shoot words like rapid fire at him, “You
promised
you wouldn’t hurt me.”

He drew back in surprise. Had he been too rash in his desire? Had he underestimated his strength or human bodies? If he had somehow broken her, he would never forgive himself.

Isolde didn’t seem to be hurt, however. She was panting, staring up at him with an expression he couldn’t completely understand.

“Alright,” she whispered. “You want me to fight. As you can see, your greatest enemy in this is me.”

“You can’t fight yourself.”

“I can, actually,” Isolde said, still out of breath. “I already told you I desired you. But my traditions do not allow me to accept this so easily. So I have to fight myself. Take it this way. If I can no longer stop myself from coming to you, then I have lost. You’ll have won a battle over me, not just a physical one that you would win laughably easily, but a real one. Because I would fight my honor and that is a much more difficult fight.”

Her eyes seemed to search his, waiting to see if he agreed with this strange way of seeing things…

Diego wondered if he should take his clever
gesha
to the Elders, because that idea had made his heart beat so fast he didn’t remember when he had felt like that outside of an intense battle. His cock now hurt so badly he would have trouble walking, but he would give his
gesha
the fight she wanted. She was right, after all. He could overpower her in a second, but to have won her over from herself, to be so desirable to his second half that she couldn’t keep herself away from him with all her self-control… now that was a victory.

He kissed her again fiercely, making her squirm in surprise. “Agreed,” he whispered against her lips.
 

CHAPTER SIX

Isolde

That was close
, Isolde thought as the door slid shut with a calming
shush
after the commander.
So close.

She wasn’t entirely sure if she meant that she couldn’t have held him off any more, or how close she had come to just giving in and becoming the first Terran
gesha
. That had definitely been on the table, since apparently they had to teach kissing in the same school where the commander had been training, because bloody hell… wow. Isolde’s legs were still tingling. Other parts of her were tingling too and protesting very loudly at her sending the general away.

She fell back on her bed and bravely ignored her desire to share it with Grothan.

She had bought herself some time, but she couldn’t tell how much. He wouldn’t wait on her forever, that was for sure. But Isolde also found it difficult to trust herself, given how quickly she was falling for the
veni-vidi-vici
commander. Mother had always told her she would fall for the bad boy type, but this one mommy dearest surely couldn’t have predicted.

Isolde calculated. If they made it to Rhea, perhaps someone there could protect her? Unlikely. She wanted to see the person standing up to Diego Grothan and saying, “You can’t have this.” People like that usually ended up very much dead. No, she would have to find some other excuse or some such. And convince herself she really wanted to be rescued from him in the first place.

In the meanwhile, she needed a very cold shower.

Many, many “trying to operate someone else’s shower is like trying to operate a spaceship” jokes later, Isolde gave up. Apparently operating someone else’s shower
on
a spaceship was a whole other level. She got dressed again and went to see the warriors left to guard her. After some discussion over privacy and hygiene and Commander Grothan’s temper, one of them came and made the quick observation that she had been trying to wash herself with the in-ship communications system. Isolde was shown to the real shower, which appeared from the wall hidden behind a tile that looked exactly like all the other tiles and made as much sense as showers usually did. She had to make sure not to lean against anything or she might end up stabbed to death by a coat rack or something.

Speaking of being stabbed with huge spikes… a cold shower was definitely needed.

After making sure she was alone and would be left alone – “Commander Grothan would have our heads if we came to your room uninvited” – Isolde stripped down once more. The cold water felt nice, but after she had sneezed and turned the heat up a little, her body seemed to take that as cue to parade an endless line of images of Commander Grothan in her bed again.

She slipped her hand between her legs, hoping aliens respected privacy and weren’t spying on her. Massaging her breasts with the other hand, Isolde had to bite her lip to stay silent – not that there was anyone to hear, but still – pushing her fingers in and deeper. They went easily, slick with water and her wetness and felt better than anything had for ages. She scissored them, bringing herself closer, impatient for the release that had been aching the whole day since she’d seen that man walking towards her, bright squares only exaggerating the leanness of his neck, with a voice that would turn her on as surely as his hands could. She pushed another finger in, imagining if he would be as thick or as warm, if he could reach deeper into her than her fingers could. Her other hand moved to caress her clit as she moaned, her hands moving faster, thinking of him plunging into her, claiming her. It wouldn’t be so bad to accept, would it, just to feel him pulse within her, his perfect muscled chest pressed against her body… she hit her head against the wall as it snapped back when she came, breathing heavily, letting the warm water wash her clean.

There
. Now she could think straight again. It would help her deal with the commander, at least for a few days, she hoped. Damn those Brions. Why couldn’t they look like stereotypical aliens – green little men, big heads and creepy eyes – that would make saying no so much easier. But no, they had to be gorgeous. Life was so unfair to her, Isolde felt.

She became more sarcastic the more she thought on it, pacing restlessly around her room, drying her hair. Poor little Isolde indeed. The curvy little girl who only ever had two boyfriends, now wooed by the insanely hot alien lord who made the jocks in her school look like pudgy kids. The part of her that didn’t care one bit what decision she made or if she had any choices, which only wanted to do the nasty stuff with Grothan, had been a bit worried if the general would think her pretty. So alright, he thought she was his
gesha
and all, but did he actually – objectively – think she was desirable? She didn’t worry any more. When Grothan had been in her room, his eyes hadn’t stopped undressing her for a moment. Human, Brion, all the same. A woman knew when she was being desired, and oh boy, did the gorgeous commander want her.

Isolde felt she was entitled to feel good about the fact. Take that, popular girls in college. She wouldn’t have minded showing up to a reunion hand-in-hand with Grothan. She even would have volunteered for the clean-up duty of sweeping up all the dropped jaws. However, Isolde felt weird about adding him to the list of her admirers. There had been Bobby Jackson in kindergarten, Terry and Klaus in her later years and now – Diego Grothan, the Commander General of the
Triumphant
.

She needed to clear her head.

Her Brion guards insisted on following her around. It was carefully explained to Isolde that naturally she didn’t have access to all of the ship, but she could walk in the communal areas. The
Triumphant
was a huge ship and always in air. One of her guards – Ensha – said that some Brions spent their entire lives on the ship. So while it was a military vessel, people still lived in it.

To Isolde’s eyes, it was pretty much exactly what she had imagined. Aliens had no eye for aesthetics, or their understandings differed completely from humans. There was not a single thing that did not bear any reasonable, easily-understood function. Everything was useful for something or to someone.

Isolde’s mind spun. She had never really liked scented candles or other such trinkets, but within five minutes of walking around she began to miss something with no purpose whatsoever.
Feng shui
seemed to exist in a separate universe to these guys.

Oh yes, the guys. The hunks that all looked like they’d just walked off the pages of
Hunks Monthly
. Not to mention their commander, the conqueror of worlds and apparently, women’s hearts.

Isolde was definitely swooning. That was very uncool. Swooning happened to teenage girls and was directed at pop stars. Now she was imagining Diego on stage, in a tight leather coat, surrounded by hordes of fan girls dying to just breathe the same air he did. Rolling her eyes at herself because there was no one else to do it, she wondered if these aliens brewed alcohol and if drinking it would kill her.

Ensha followed at a respectful enough distance, gently tugging her away when she started to walk down a forbidden corridor. They eventually ended up in a huge hangar-like area with the same kind of screens for walls Isolde had seen on the
Forger
. She made her way to them at once, staring wide-eyed at strange constellations flashing by, as much as she could tell at least.

Oh God. Space was so big.

And so far, not what she had imagined. For one, the Brions seemed surprisingly calm and unthreatening for their reputation, even with those huge blades on their backs. Other than the obvious fear-mingled respect they showed Grothan, the warriors didn’t seem to pick a fight with everything that breathed like Isolde had been told. Ensha, for example, seemed to think her strange and her presence weird, but when Isolde asked him something, he answered politely and without any trace of negativity she could discern.

She thought of Rhea. Isolde had only a very basic understanding of galactic maps, and the only thing she truly knew was that Rhea was far. Such a fun word in terms of space travel.

Space, however, seemed to be as black as ever as she was carried away from her home and everything she had ever known at a speed she couldn’t even comprehend. It should have made her sad, but with no remaining family and few friends, Isolde found herself more excited than torn apart by the leaving. She only had to ditch her suitor, and then she could start her work on Rhea, return to Terra in a few years, publish extensively, and maybe get a new mission… Space didn’t seem all that bad.